Legacy of the Serpents
by Panatis
Summary: Before Nagini died, she had laid an egg. Now Loxvi, Voldemort's heir, threatens the entire wizarding world. With Draco as her aid, she has an unstoppable army, and Harry will do anything in his power to guarantee her fall. DRARRY
1. The Veiled Stranger

AN: This will be a pretty good-sized story, so expect many more chapters to come. It might be slow to start, and slow to explanation, but that will come in later chapters. Please tell me what you think!

* * *

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 1: The Veiled Stranger**_

The Riddle house hid every trace of light. Voldemort sat at the head of his table, with no other death eater but one, Antonin Dolohov. "Antonin, come into the basement with me." Voldemort ordered. Antonin sat across the table, his black bangs hiding one of his eyes.

Antonin nodded. "Yes, m'lord." They both rose and made their way to the steps, to the first floor, and then into the basement.

The basement smelled moldy, and the air was moist. There was such little light descending the staircase that one would've thought he was lost in a nightmare of oblivion. But as the basement came into view, so did the light emanating from a source in the corner of the basement.

"Antonin, meet," he gestured, "my daughter." Voldemort smiled eerily, his sharp teeth grazing his bottom lip. Antonin's eyes followed, and saw a magically suspended crystal box containing a large, black egg.

"M'lord, this – your daughter? How – with who?" He stuttered.

"In time, I will explain everything to you. But what I _am_ going to tell you is of great importance." Voldemort snapped. He walked over to the crystal box and started stroking it. "Antonin … I have chosen _you_ as Loxvi's caretaker. As such, you will feed her, teach her, and house her after her birth. Do you understand?" Voldemort's gaze pierced into Antonin's. Antonin knew that, though he wasn't planning on it, denial would be suicide.

"I – I am honored, m'lord. You are so kind as to grace my presence with your kin." He groveled.

"It is done, then. Loxvi, meet your caretaker: Antonin Dolohov." Voldemort smiled, continuing to stroke the crystal box.

The egg pulsated with a crackling energy as an unspoken bond formed.

* * *

**(Six Years Later)**

Harry was locking the door just as Ginny pulled up into the driveway. He heard her slam the car door.

"Are you leaving again?" He flinched. He'd been doing a good job of leaving before she got home, but it seemed Ginny was trying her hardest to make it home earlier than usual – probably to catch him in the act.

"Uh – uhm, Yeah." He stuttered. Ginny stomped over, her heels clicking on the cement.

"And where are you going?" Still staring at the doorknob, he didn't respond. She grabbed his wrist and yelled, "Damnit, answer me, Harry!"

He could only assume that her eyes were full of rage right now, for that was the last place he wanted to look. He could hear her breathing become heavy.

"Harry, look at me! Damnit, look at me!" She yelled.

"Ginny, _stop yelling_. The neighbors are looking at us." Harry ground out.

"I don't _care_ who's looking at us! I'm so bloody sick, and tired, of the way you've been sneaking around London! There are people out there that _hate_ you, Harry, do you understand that? Do you understand that you could be killed somewhere and I wouldn't even know where to look for you? You – you make me so worried!" Ginny choked up. He only looked up when he heard her crying.

"Oh, Ginny…" He sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm… sorry."

She scrambled out of his hold. "That's what you said last time, Harry; and the time before that!" She screamed through her sobs. She glared at him, and then quickly went into the house, locking the door behind her.

Part of him was angry, he had to admit. He knew Ginny was right, so he didn't know why he was so angry. He felt empty. Every day was so monotonous. It didn't help that he never bothered looking for a job, but he had so much money; it would've been pointless to have one. The only thing it would've served was keeping his mind off of the monotony.

He knew one thing for certain: If he admitted to spending all of his time with a bottle of whiskey instead of her, he'd be in for it.

* * *

The mauve potion hissed and bubbled as Draco Malfoy threw in the last remnants of Asphodel. "There," he yawned and stretched, "Last one for the night." He lowered his arms and went to retrieve some vials in a cabinet on the far wall. After bottling up the supply in the cauldron, he removed the floor rug, opened up the vault door, and placed them carefully inside. He relocked it, and placed the rug over it.

Draco Malfoy was leaving behind a very long day. He had a day like this every week, and he dreaded it. It was the day for brewing the "Esprit sur le Corps" potions.

Draco apparated back to Malfoy manor and proceeded to walk back to his room. His parents were always asleep by the time he was done with his nightly errand, so it was always a lonely walk.

He lay awake in his bed, his mind going over the events that had led up to his current schedule.

"_This is a very special part of the operation, Draco. I hope you understand this."_

"_I do, Lady Loxvi. But I wonder why you don't employ the technique of our former Lord."_

"_Well," She chuckled charmingly, "it was an unintelligent and cocky give-away. Don't you think, dear Draco?"_

Aside from everything else he'd heard about Lady Loxvi, she operated so differently from Lord Voldemort. It allowed him and his family to follow someone who held up the pureblood ideals, but without the fear of getting constantly spat upon, from either wizarding society or Loxvi herself.

As Draco drifted into sleep, however, he always had nagging thoughts creep upon him: Loxvi was always hiding something. With Voldemort, he would've known instantly if his family was in danger. He wasn't so certain with Loxvi. Loxvi could strike in the night, and there would've been no warning for her victims.

* * *

Harry arrived at The Hog's Head just as sunlight was waning. He preferred the later hours when people wouldn't be able to see him as clearly, but he'd been forced to come earlier so he could try and escape Ginny. He knew it was wrong to think of her like that, but that's how he'd started to feel. He suspected the alcohol was only driving a greater chasm between them, but it had already become a large part of his schedule.

"What'll you be havin' tonight, Mr. Potter?" asked an old, cloaked witch.

"Eh… Firewhiskey."

"Ogden's Old, I assume?" She turned around, fumbling with the drinks on the lower shelf.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied as a dusty bottle was clunked in front of him.

"I'll put it on yer tab." She wheezed.

Harry nodded, popped the cap, and took a swig. He rubbed his arm across his mouth, and looked around the pub. Not many people – as usual.

He was finished with his bottle by the time the pub was only lit by candlelight. He ordered another, and sipped on it as his mind swirled with thoughts of him and Ginny. What was holding them together? The house? The thought of someday having a family? Ron and Hermione? At all of these, he had to shake his head. His schedule even interfered with them having sex, as when he got home, Ginny was already fast asleep.

Harry sighed. He'd been thinking this over for a couple of months now, only to try and drown the thoughts out with another shot of whiskey. He knew he needed help, but he didn't think there was help to be had. Knowing Ginny was at home made him feel like he didn't have to come home to an empty house; and really, that was the only thing he could think of which kept them together.

As he took another swig, he heard someone plop down into the seat beside him. He jumped, but kept staring straight ahead. Better to ignore the person than start a confrontation, he thought.

"Hello, Mr. Potter." At the mention of his name, he faced the man beside him. He was covered in a tattered, dark green cloak and from what he could see, his face was covered in scars. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"No, I don't have any money." he said, and turned back to watching the barmaid.

"I'm not lookin' fer yer money, Mr. Potter." At that, Harry turned to him. The man scowled at him and said, "There is somethin' you need to know. Curse me if what I tell you isn't important. But – I can't tell you down here. Meet me upstairs in room six." The man gave Harry one last look and stumbled from the table, and went upstairs.

His breath sped up. If he went up there … _"There are people out there that hate you, Harry, do you understand that?" _Ginny's voice echoed. Harry threw some money down on the counter and wobbled his way out of the Hog's Head. _'I'll be damned if I die tonight.'_


	2. Strangers Make Better Company

(AN: Thanks to those who added this story as a favorite or put it on alert! Chapters from here on out will be longer than the first. I just had to get the beginning out of the way. With that said, on to the next chapter! And don't forget to tell me what you think ;-) )

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 2: Strangers Make Better Company**_

The unfortunate thing about drinking was that Harry couldn't apparate without the fear of getting splinched, so he had to flag down a taxi. The nights when it rained were the worst, so by the time one finally came around, he was soaking wet. It was almost enough to make him second guess his habits.

Fortunately, tonight, the air was clear. It was about five minutes before the first taxi came around. Harry flagged him and got into the back seat.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Potter! I haven't seen you in a couple of weeks." The driver's eyes shone in the rear-view mirror.

"I guess I've flagged different drivers." Harry mumbled.

"Not to worry. I still remember where you live. That is where you wanted to go, right?"

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence for a portion of the drive. Harry squirmed as he thought about the man from The Hog's Head. There was something about him that was intriguing; if it wasn't him entirely, than it was the information he promised to have. If only the man had made a better impression, Harry would still be at the pub in room six.

"Mr. Grimly," Harry started, "do you find it hard … eh, talking to certain people that use your taxi? Well, like, shady people, for example?"

The driver sat perplexed for a moment and sighed. "Mr. Potter, when you've been in this business for as long as I have, 'shady' people are usually the ones that have the best stories. I don't know … maybe life has rubbed them more raw than most."

"But have you ever been threatened or attacked by someone like that?"

"You have a lot of questions tonight," Grimly chuckled, "but I've only been attacked or threatened by those I suspected the least."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and remained quiet throughout the remainder of the drive. As the taxi pulled up to his house, Harry paid and Grimly politely said his goodbye with a wave. Harry walked up to the house and, after rummaging around for his wand, unlocked the door and made his way in. As usual, Ginny was asleep. Harry dressed into pajamas and slithered his way into bed.

Harry couldn't help but wonder about the man from the pub. What if the man had information that one of his friends was in danger? And then Harry realized, if the information that the man had was really that important, would he be able to prevent something from happening which would otherwise make him feel guilty? His thoughts were swirling, and Harry rubbed his face in confusion. Ginny stirred in her sleep and he froze.

"Harry…" Ginny sighed.

"Ginny?"

Ginny mumbled incoherently in her sleep and flung her arm around him. Harry sighed with relief and waited for sleep to overtake him.

…

Ginny had already gone to work by the time Harry woke up. He wiped the morning spittle from his mouth and rolled out of bed. As he was sitting on the edge of his bed, he saw the edge of a pink book sticking out from a corner of the bed.

With knitted eyebrows, he grabbed it and opened it up. "The Diary of Ginevra Molly P/o/t/t/e/r Weasley" the first page read, with Potter wildly scratched out.

'_What?'_ He thought to himself.

Harry flipped it open to the last page. It was dated yesterday.

"_I'm getting tired of it, diary. How am I supposed to trust him when he doesn't trust me? He thinks I'm stupid. He thinks I don't smell the alcohol on his breath. Well, I'll just let him think he's getting around like the sneaky rat he is. He'll be in for a big surprise when I leave him. Yes. I'm leaving him. But I'm not going to tell him. I know two wrongs don't make a right, but I'm just SO angry! This has been going on for a couple of months now, so I've given him time to be honest with me! He must've used up all of his goodness in school – that's the only explanation I have for why he's been acting the way he has. I'll tell you when I plan to leave. First, I have some things to get in order._

_ ~GMW_

Harry was gaping by the time he finished the last sentence. Anger started to boil within his stomach. He threw the diary across the room with an angry growl and held his head in his hands. He felt betrayed – angry at both Ginny and himself. How could it have come this far? Come this far without him knowing? Harry bit his lips in thought as he showered and dressed for the day. Out of the anger came rebelliousness. He no longer cared about Ginny's worry, or her sadness, or her anger. He no longer cared about her at all. And really, he no longer cared about himself.

He was going to go to that pub tonight, drink himself silly, and possibly die if he saw that man again. Thoughts were in the back of his mind whispering '_You don't really mean that,' 'You still care for her,' 'You still care for yourself,' _But fine. If Ginny wanted to believe that his goodness died in school, so be it. She could think that, and Harry wouldn't feel guilty for proving her right. _'… You'd feel guilty.'_ He continued to rant in his head as the day went on.

He waited until Ginny got home. It was the first time he actually had for the two months he'd been leaving.

Harry was sitting on the couch when she opened the door. "Harry…" She sounded surprised.

"Hey." He grunted out.

"You … you haven't left yet," She fumbled with her purse and quickly sat down on the couch.

"Apparently not." He grunted out again.

"Are you okay?" At this, Harry was silent and was glaring at the blank screen of the television. "Harry, I think – I think we need to talk about all of this."

"**Talk about all of this? Ginny, what is there to talk about? I know you're going to move out, I KNOW you know what I do! Stop acting fuckin' stupid!" **Harry yelled.

"**Harry, what was I SUPPOSED to do? You go sneaking around, don't tell me a damn thing, we don't even have sex anymore! What the hell are we doing together, Harry? Tell me!"**

Ginny was sobbing now, and Harry reigned in all of his will to keep from comforting her as he usually did. Both were silent for a couple moments, and all they could hear were her sobs.

"I – I found a house. It's about three streets over." She mumbled through her tears. Harry nodded.

"So … when are you leaving?"

"Three days from now." She mumbled.

Harry nodded his head, scowling. He couldn't listen to any more. He was tired of thinking about it, thinking about her, thinking about their miserable relationship. He stood up and made for the door.

"**Where are you going?" **Ginny yelled.

"**None of your damn business!"**

Harry slammed the door on his way out.

…

Harry walked into The Hog's Head, being sure to look around for the shady man. There were only about three people in the pub, so it wouldn't be hard to spot him if he was there. Harry sat down at his usual spot on the bar, and asked the barmaid for three firewhiskeys.

"Three, lad? Is that all yer orderin' tonight?" She asked.

"Heh. No. I'm just getting started." Harry replied bitterly.

"Eh… if you don't mind me askin', has anythin' been on yer mind?"

"Oh… just the usual sob story you probably hear all the time. Man meets girl. Girl gets angry at man. Man and girl leave each other."

"Eh. Yes, I had assumed it by the look on yer face. Don't worry, we'll take care of you here." The old hag winked. Harry cringed at the gesture.

Harry was done with his second drink when he heard a plop on the seat beside him. All of a sudden, he felt a wash of déjà vu come over him. Harry could see the tattered cloak out of his peripheral vision. "No, I don't have any money." Harry said, smirking.

The man chuckled and said, "I eh, can understand why you wouldn't trust me, Mr. Potter. But I hope that I can convince you to listen to what I have to say."

Harry decided to play dumb to see what he could get out of the man. "Okay. What've you got?" Harry asked, turning towards the cloaked man.

"I think you'll find this a very interesting piece of news." The man said quietly, leaning toward Harry. In an instant, a piece of paper was shoved in front of him. Harry slowly unfolded the piece of paper, while the other man's eyes flicked between Harry and the paper in his hands.

It said, in scratchy writing,

_"V had a daughter."_

The instant Harry looked back at the man, he'd snatched the paper back and stuffed it in his pocket.

"What?" Harry's faced contorted into one of confusion.

"It's exactly what it said, Mr. Potter. Now, if you want to know more, I suggest meeting me in room six." The cloaked man staggered out of the seat and walked up the pub staircase with heavy feet.

Harry, biting his lip in uncertainty, stumbled toward the staircase, and made his way up to the guest room floor.

…

Room six was just as shabby as Harry expected it to be. A coverless, worn mattress lay on a metal bed frame, the carpet was covered in a layer of dirt and bits of paper, and two chipped wooden chairs sat against the wall. The cloaked man, who was gesturing for Harry to sit down, sat in one of them.

Ignoring the gesture, Harry stood near the door. "Who are you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

The man uncovered his face, which was littered in scars. One blue eye was off skew. "I am Travis Kleitsmann. I was involved in the first wizarding war, and am a former death eater," At Harry's alarmed face, he continued. "After the first war, Voldemort employed me into central intelligence. After I lost one of my eyes, I was useless in combat. No one knew my name, and that was how it stayed."

Harry was silent. His arm was against the door, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"I am still a loyal supporter of Lord Voldemort," Kleitsmann paused, his eyes flicking towards Harry. "You must be wondering why I'm telling you all of this."

Harry stared wide-eyed at the man, gripping his wand in his right hand.

"Fortunately for you, Mr. Potter … Voldemort is dead. But there is another that wizarding society now has to fear. Please, all I am asking is that you trust me. I know that I am still the enemy in yer eyes, Mr. Potter. But if you don't listen to me, Voldemort's cursed spawn will reign chaos onto this world that you have never seen."

Harry cautiously eyed Kleitsmann. He pocketed his wand and went to sit in front of him. "So … who is she?" Harry asked.

" 'She' is the daughter of Voldemort: A product of the union between Lord Voldemort and Nagini. Any death eater that wasn't captured now follows her orders. Well, everyone except for me." Kleitsmann chuckled.

There was a long silence. "Why?"

"_Loxvi _will never be able to compare to Lord Voldemort's greatness! And as a proud supporter of Lord Voldemort, I will NOT follow one who spits upon the memory of him!" He exclaimed.

"So … are you saying that she doesn't respect him?" Harry asked.

"That is _precisely_ what I am saying, Mr. Potter."

A long silence followed while Harry pondered this news.

"Is she really that big of a threat?" He asked.

"I… I believe so, and I'll tell you why, Mr. Potter," He paused, "Lady Loxvi is sneaky. She harbors the morale of the death eaters by not exercising her treachery in front of them. She gives them reasons for following her, where as Lord Voldemort demanded their loyalty without reason. She doesn't communicate with her followers through a mark, but a specific potion. She tells them this 'keeps them safe from those wanting to harm them.' Hah! Fools, the lot of them. But I have seen things, Mr. Potter. She is much more vicious than Voldemort could ever be."

"What does she look like?" Harry asked.

"She is very beautiful, if you ignore the snake skin. She has the face of an angel, but the body of a serpent. She is… very charming. She has eh… seduced loyalty out of some men."

Harry nodded and shifted in his seat. "So… tell me more about these potions."

"I don't know much about them, because I don't drink 'em. All I know is what I've heard on the streets. These potions, they uh … allow Loxvi to communicate with her followers. Her emotions allow her to give strength to her army when they're in need. Because of this, the death eaters are, well… they are much more powerful. If we can stop production, Mr. Potter … Loxvi will be left defenseless," Kleitsmann paused. "I know two things for certain: Where to get them, and who makes them."

"And… that is?"

"They get them at that new potion shop, The Bubbling Cauldron, off in Knockturn alley. And as to who makes them, that is … Draco Malfoy."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"He started the shop after he left school. His parents fueled the expenditure, and Draco Malfoy has been runnin' this shady operation ever since."

"So… what can _I_ do?" Harry asked. He bit his lip as the difficult situation was finally dawning on him.

"First, I need to gather a list of the ingredients. After I do that, I'll give the list to you, and you can break into the shop and pollute those ingredients. Do you understand that, lad?"

"But… couldn't I just tell the ministry?" Harry asked.

Kleitsmann scoffed. "The ministry would need some kind of proof that something suspicious was going on at the shop. I can't think of anything that would give the operation away. If you can, well – be my guest."

Harry sighed, and stood up. "Yeah. You're probably right. Well … when should I meet you again?"

"Give me about three days to gather the list. Then meet me here again. Same room, same time. I'll be here, so don't worry about that." Kleitsmann grinned.

"Yeah. I'll be here." He replied with a frown.

Harry waited for a taxi in the rain that night, thinking to himself, _'Partnering up with a death eater… I'm either really stupid, or really crazy.'_

…

(AN: I can't point you to a direct link, but you can find the model that was the inspiration for Lady Loxvi's appearance, if you're curious. Just go to google images and type in 'Mallika Sherawat snake woman')


	3. The Doomed Plan

(AN: So, I know I've been getting these out quickly, but I just can't help it. This story makes me excited to write. And, please tell me what you think. Good? Bad? Why?)

* * *

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 3: The Doomed Plan**_

(Four years earlier)

Antonin unlocked the door leading to the basement. As he descended, the stairs creaked under his weight. Candles were lit in far corners of the room and a luxurious bed lay against the far wall. Antonin approached the bed and caressed the tresses of the creature that lay in it. "My Lady Loxvi," Antonin sighed. At that, Loxvi slowly rolled over and eyed Antonin curiously.

"Antonin … where is my father?"

"Your father is … out." Antonin frowned. He cupped her face and said, "You should sleep. You have studies tomorrow."

"But I don't want to study." She hissed.

"Now, now…" He tutted, "Don't be hard-headed. You wouldn't want your father coming back only to hear that you hadn't completed your studies."

The scowl on Loxvi's young face deepened. "I hate him!" She spat.

"You tell me all the time." He said, smiling. Antonin stood, and went to extinguish the candles.

Before locking the door to the basement, Loxvi called out, "Goodnight, Antonin."

"Goodnight."

Antonin frowned as the lock clicked. He would never have the heart to tell her that her father hated her, too.

* * *

(Present Day)

Harry pulled the covers up and let the heat from his body surround him. He'd been sleeping on the couch for the past couple of days, and he found that he quite liked sleeping on the couch, because there was only one side he could fall off from. That reduced the chances of him falling off by about 50 percent. There was also no Ginny. That was a plus. She probably still had a scowl on her face, even in her sleep.

Harry sighed in frustration and wedged himself in the crook of the couch. He could think better like this – it made him feel closer to his own mind. The mission that he'd been given by Kleitsmann seemed like a short term solution. Harry knew that if he went about doing this, he'd have to pollute every supply Malfoy received, and even if he did that, it would eventually raise suspicion. At this realization, he groaned, rolled over, and rubbed his eyes.

The only way that this would even come close to working is if he found out where Loxvi was located. He would only be able to pollute the ingredients around two times before Malfoy would probably figure it out, not that he would admit to giving any credit to his intelligence.

But he needed more time! He couldn't just go in there alone. Even though she wouldn't be able to communicate with her army, she'd still have people guarding her; and though Harry had made it through multiple duels, he'd be stupid to go in there without any back-up.

With his mind made up, Harry slowly fell asleep in the crook of the couch.

* * *

"Wake up!"

Harry flailed off the couch as Ginny slapped him on the arm. "What the hell?" Harry stumbled to stand up and after a few seconds of staring at her incredulously, he said, "Oh, what the hell do you want _now_?"

"You need to help me pack." She said with crossed arms.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. What about work?"

"They let me off."

There was an awkward silence while they averted their eyes. Harry was the first to make his way into the bedroom, followed by Ginny who carried a couple of broken down boxes.

Harry grabbed his wand and started sorting through multiple things in the closet. After a few minutes, he came across a photo of Ginny and himself. "Hey, look what I found." He said, frowning. After a moment, Ginny walked up behind him.

"Oh, look at that … we look so happy."

"Yeah…" Harry sighed. "Here. You can take it. If I keep it, I'll probably burn it."

Harry could practically feel the heat coming off of her in waves. "And what makes you think I won't?" She spat. She turned around and started sorting through more things.

Aside from asking which box she wanted certain things in, they didn't talk to each other for the rest of the day.

* * *

After packing most of her belongings, Ginny left with most of the boxes. Harry knew this was the only chance he had to make it to the pub. If he waited for her to get back, he'd be kept there in the redundancy of box-packing. While he would feel a little guilty for leaving the rest of the packing to her, he needed to get to that pub and get the list of ingredients. And maybe drink a little. He liked that part the most.

Harry grabbed his wand and, after leaving the house, apparated to Hogsmeade. He had a little time to spare, as the sun was just now setting and allowed for another half hour of daylight. He made his way into Knockturn Alley and brought up the hood of his cloak. Though the war was over, there were still people who glared at him on these streets. He felt better if they weren't able to identify him.

After passing a couple of odd-end shops, Harry came upon The Bubbling Cauldron. Harry frowned as he tried to peer into the black slats of the shop window. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair and scowled a little. '_So it's true…_' Harry thought, '_That little bastard _is_ the owner._ _Well … time to check out the latest shop in Hogsmeade._'

Harry made his way up the steps and was greeted by a jingling noise as he opened the door. Malfoy was standing with his back to him, arranging some green-tinted potions on one of the many shelves. Harry looked down to keep his face hidden as Malfoy turned around to greet him.

"Hello! Welcome to The Bubbling Cauldron. If you have any questions or need help finding anything, let me know."

Harry snorted at the feigned happiness in Malfoy's voice. "Uh, yes," Harry cleared his voice, and tried to mask his voice by forcing it lower. "I was wondering if you have any potions for headaches. See, I've been having such terrible headaches lately, and –"

Harry was cut off as Malfoy rushed past him and motioned to a shelf on his left. "Why, yes, we just so happen to have many different potions that can cure all kinds of ailments. See, this one down here," Draco kneeled down to pick up one on the bottom shelf, "Can cure headaches _and_ migraines, and _also_ –"

As Malfoy looked up, he gasped. Harry tried to turn his head, but it was too late.

"Potter! You … you insolent–! Ugh, I'll have you know that you're not going to just traipse into my shop in the hopes of humiliating me! Now, what are you doing here?"

Before he knew it, Harry's hood was ripped off of his head, and he was left staring into the face of an enraged Malfoy.

"It's not really polite to treat your customers this way, Malfoy." Harry smirked.

He looked like he was going to explode with rage. Any minute now, he'd be spitting and casting curses. Harry just knew it.

He could practically see Malfoy biting his tongue as his face twisted and he heaved heavy breaths. "If you aren't going to _buy_ anything," Malfoy hissed in his face quietly, "then get-out-of-_my_-_SHOP_!"

With wide, enraged eyes, Malfoy walked past him and held the door open, glaring at him. Harry smirked and walked slowly towards him, and stood so close that Malfoy went to push him away violently. Harry grabbed his upper arms and whispered in his ear, "_You know I'll be back_." Harry smirked and, with a light push to his arms, slowly walked out of the shop.

Draco quietly closed the door, laid his head against it, and waited for his nervous breath to slow.

With his hood back in place, Harry walked down the cobblestone of the alleyway. Really, he felt silly for doing what he did back at the shop, but he loved seeing that bit of fear in Malfoy's eyes. He felt that, maybe, it was the only thing he could've done to humiliate him without causing too much trouble. Harry sighed. And really, he was kind of angry at Malfoy; Aside from being a complete asshole, the man had a second chance at living life without the threat of Azkaban for himself or his family, and he was throwing it all away. He felt like all of this … was a spit in the face. He'd even saved Malfoy's life, and he was still dabbling in darkness. No. What he did back at the shop was a taste of revenge – and he wanted to taste more of it.

* * *

Harry had been at The Hog's Head for over an hour now, and hadn't yet been visited by Kleitsmann. The alcohol was the only thing keeping the edge off of his nervousness. Just as Harry was finally starting to really feel the effects of the alcohol, Kleitsmann plopped down into the seat beside him.

Harry's gaze stayed on the barmaid. " 'Bout time you showed up." He mumbled, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, well, I was held up a bit."

"Hm. I've been meaning to talk to you about all this." Harry said, turning towards him.

"Sorry lad, but I don't have much time to talk," He looked around with a paranoid gaze and slid a piece of paper towards Harry. With that, he stood up to leave.

"No, wait," but through his protesting, the man walked out of the pub and vanished.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to do this anymore. '_If he would've just listened to me, he would've realized that this plan entails more than he's making it out to. This is a pointless plan! I'll be damned if I fight Loxvi alone. That's it. I'll just get this over with, pollute a couple of shipments, and then tell him that Malfoy became suspicious. All of this is just so stupid.'_

Harry slowly opened the note.

_4 x Griffin Claw, .4 oz Asphodel, .01 oz Loxvi venom, 2 x Fairy Wing, .2 oz Armadillo Bile_

Harry knew one thing. With or without this plan failing, he wanted to know more about this potion. There was only one person who he could go to that would have the ability to piece together its' actual mechanics.

When Harry got home, he immediately went into the study, activated the fireplace, and threw in a pinch of floo powder. "Hermione and Ron Weasley's residence!" He shouted.

He saw Hermione sitting on the couch nursing the newborn. At seeing his head, she made a disconcerting noise and tried to subtly cover up the bare part of her chest. "Harry! Eh…" She said nervously, "What are you doing here?"

Harry laughed. "Don't be embarrassed, Hermione. It's just a boob." At that, Hermione shifted nervously.

"So, what's on your mind, Harry?"

"I needed to talk to you about a few things … well, a lot of things, actually."

"Like what?"

"Well, is it okay if I come over? It'd be better if I could talk to you there."

"Sure."

In an instant, Harry was standing in his friends' house. Hermione gestured to the place on the couch beside her, where he went to sit.

"So? What's going on? How are you and Ginny?"

Of course, that was the last thing Harry wanted to talk about. But he knew, sooner or later, it was going to come up. "Ginny and I … have decided to break it off. She moved out today."

Hermione gasped. "What? Why?" She covered her mouth, her newborn resting in her other arm.

"Well, really, we just haven't been getting along very well. We snap at each other all the time, and … we've been avoiding each other." Harry knew that if it were Ginny telling her side of the story, Hermione would be mad at him for a couple of weeks. He knew he was to blame more than he made it seem.

"That's… really unfortunate, Harry. I'm sorry." She placed her hand on his, and Harry immediately withdrew it.

"Um – Thanks, Hermione. But really, it was going to happen. We just … aren't meant for each other, I guess."

"Yeah…" She sighed.

"In other news –"

"Oh, right. What else did you want to talk about?"

Harry took a deep breath before broaching the topic. "I was … approached by someone at The Hog's Head. He uh, told me about some things that have been happening lately. A lot of bad things."

With a look of confusion, she said, "Bad … things? Like – like what, Harry?" She babbled nervously.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ron called from another room.

"Oh … Harry, hold on. Ron's home. Give me just a second."

Harry watched as Hermione walked out of the room with her baby. "Harry's here? Really? HEY, HARRY!" Ron called from the other room.

Harry laughed. "HEY, RON!" A second later, Ron came bustling in. "What's up, mate? You look tired."

"Yeah. I've just been having a rough couple of weeks."

"So, what's been goin' on?" He mumbled, sitting down at the edge of the couch.

"A lot of things. I'll tell you when Hermione gets back. I'd rather not repeat myself. It's kind of important."

"Oh. Okay, mate."

After a couple of minutes in which they talked about current events and the latest Quidditch matches, Hermione walked back into the room. "I just put Rose down, so we need to keep it kind of quiet down here." She said.

They both nodded, and Harry found him being stared at expectantly for a few seconds.

"Right. So, like I said earlier, I was approached by a man at The Hog's Head. And I'm just going to spit this out, and take questions later, so no interruptions. Basically, he told me that Voldemort had a daughter named Loxvi, and that she's been gathering followers, namely, death eaters. Well, instead of the dark mark, she communicates with them through a potion – a specific potion which, may I add, Draco Malfoy makes."

Hermione and Ron's mouths were agape by the time he ended his speech. "I – I know this sounds unbelievable, trust me. I didn't believe it myself, at first. But … it's true. And I have no reason to doubt what this man tells me."

"Harry –" Hermione started, "This is … this is bad. This is really bad." She said with worried eyes.  
"This is going to be a nightmare all over again, isn't it, Harry." Ron stated.

"Okay, I know that it's bad. I know. But I need help. This man, he – he wants me to break into Malfoy's shop and pollute the potion ingredients, but it just isn't going to work. And basically … this is all too risky. It seemed silly to me at first, but the more I thought about it, the more rash it seemed. I need time to think of something else, because this just isn't going to work."

"Well, you could at least try, couldn't you?" Ron asked.

"Ron, it isn't that simple. What Harry's trying to say is that even if the potions become polluted and Loxvi isn't able to communicate with the death eaters, none of us know the layout, or even the location, of where Loxvi is staying. By the time we figured it all out, Malfoy would get suspicious because all of a sudden, people would be complaining that the potions aren't working. This is going to take time, and this plan doesn't offer us much of that."

"But couldn't we just find out where she is, sneak in, figure everything out, leave, and _then_ pollute the ingredients?"

Hermione sighed. "No, Ron. That's way too risky. With the potion intact, it would only take _one_ death eater to spot us, and we'd be dead. They'd overwhelm us. That one death eater would communicate our presence to the rest."

"Oh." Ron looked defeated.

"And there's something else I wanted to talk to you about, Hermione. I have the list of ingredients, and I wanted you to take a look at them. I want to know exactly how this potion works and why. It would really help to know what our disadvantages might be."

Harry handed over the list and waited as she read it over.

"This is going to take me a couple of days to research, but I think I might be able to tell you something soon. "

"Thanks, Hermione." He said, smiling.

After a couple of silent moments, Hermione added heavily, "Harry … the only way I see all of this working is if we get the cooperation of someone in the inner circle. And, honestly, I don't see how that's going to be possible."

Harry's head shot up. "Hermione … You're brilliant."

"What? What did I say?"

* * *

(AN: Okay… so maybe you saw that coming? Maybe not? Would love to hear your thoughts.)


	4. The Truth About the Turncoat

(AN: Thank you, kaka96, for the review! And thank you to all that have read this story so far! Even though I haven't gotten many reviews, I can see that several people are reading it, and that really means a lot to me! I would love to hear from some of you ;) Now, on with the story. ^_^)

* * *

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 4: The Truth About the Turncoat**_

Harry had not seen Kleitsmann since the night he received the potion ingredients list at the pub. He idly wondered what may have happened to him; why he had been in such a rush last time. Another thing that was bothering him was that Hermione hadn't contacted him in four days, which was making him a little impatient. He knew she was probably doing her best, but with so much time on his hands, all Harry had time to do was think. With the recent turn of events, he didn't view this as a good thing.

The fifth night, Harry received an owl from Hermione. The letter read,

"Harry, you need to come over as quickly as possible. There is something very important you need to hear.

~HG"

Harry was grateful, because she'd caught him just in time. He had been getting ready to leave for the pub in hopes of catching up with Kleitsmann, but Hermione's message sounded urgent. Harry got ready as quickly as he could, spritzing on cologne and clumsily pulling on his boots.

He floo'd to Hermione's house, and was immediately greeted by her as she was sitting on the couch.

"Harry! I'm glad you made it so quickly," She bit her lip and pulled out several parchments of paper from a drawer in the side lamp table. "You might want to sit down for this."

"How bad is it?" He asked, forehead creased, after he'd gone to sit.

"Who is Kleitsmann, Harry? Answer that first." Her eyes shone with concern and determination.

"Uh, well … Kleitsmann was a man that I met at The Hog's Head who supplied me with the information I gave you."

"I know that, Harry," she sighed in annoyance, "but who IS he, really?"

Harry hesitated. "Promise you won't get mad?"

"I can promise that, but I can't promise that I won't be disappointed."

Harry bit his lip. "He's … a former death eater. And if Voldemort were still alive, he'd still be one."

Hermione was silent, staring at him blank faced for several moments. "That's … what I thought." She said, turning her face to the side.

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked. "Hermione…"

"Let me tell you the information I gathered, first. I didn't think this would take so long, Harry, and I'm sorry that it did, but I realized I was missing a very important piece of the potion's purpose. So I continued investigating. What I found was that the Griffin claws increase their strength, the Armadillo bile increases their wit, and Fairy wing increases their endurance. But that was only the surface, Harry.

Loxvi's venom was much harder for me to research. I resolved that it wasn't the venom itself, but the nature of whom it came from. It's fatal, of course, in high doses, but with it being diluted and in such a low concentration, it actually enhances the effects of the other ingredients. Not only that, but it's possible that she inherited very strong Legilimency from Voldemort, to the point of being telepathic. Her venom makes it possible to establish the link between herself and her followers. Because the Legilimency seems to be so advanced as to communicate efficiently with her followers, it's also possible that she's able to 'sense' them calling out to her, in which then she's willing to read their minds."

Hermione went silent. "I understand that the plan you were put up to would've required that you pollute the ingredients, thus cutting off the supply. What I'm about to say is the part that's going to bother you, Harry." She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and looked back at him.

"The effect of the Griffin Claw on the Asphodel makes the Asphodel highly addictive, which is the opposite effect it would normally have, which is to treat addictions. The potions are … masterfully concocted. The interactions between the ingredients complement each other in such a way that Loxvi is able to keep control of the death eaters," She paused.

"But this addiction ... Harry ... if her followers stop taking this potion, the withdrawal will kill them. There's no antidote."

All of a sudden, it felt like time was standing still. All that existed was Hermione's piercing gaze, and Harry's own labored breathing. He couldn't process thought; he couldn't remember what Hermione had even said.

And then it all rushed back to him in an instant. As his breathing sped up with his troubling thoughts, rage was erupting in his chest. He stood up and started pacing, his jaw clenching in frustration.

"All this time…" He muttered angrily, "**I can't believe I trusted you!**" He screamed out at the walls, as if Kleitsmann could somehow hear him. Hermione quietly tried to interrupt his tirade, but he wasn't listening to anything around him but his thoughts.

"Hermione, I – I need to go. Right now." He said, seething. Harry looked around himself wildly and grabbed his coat.

"Harry, don't do anything stupid!"

Harry turned to look back at her as he stood in front of the fireplace. Set with a frown and a dangerous glint in his eye, he said nothing, and floo'd back to his house.

* * *

Three nights passed before he finally spotted Kleitsmann at The Hog's Head.

Harry had been sitting in his usual seat, when Kleitsmann had snuck up behind him. "Hey, lad –" He started as he sat in the seat beside him.

Harry turned to him with a furious gaze and gritted teeth. "Don't 'Hey, lad' me. We need to talk. NOW."

Kleitsmann looked confused, but subtly nodded and silently made his way up to the guest room floor. He followed.

Harry shut the door to room six, and immediately turned on Kleitsmann.

"I can't believe I trusted you." He said quietly, staring resolutely at Kleitsmann.

"What – what are you talkin' about, lad?"

"**You know damn well what I'm talking about! Do you think I would've just went along with your little plan to exterminate hundreds of lives, possibly innocent ones? I know all about the potion, Kleitsmann! And I will NOT – I repeat, WILL NOT add to the blood on my hands!"**

Kleitsmann was looking more nervous as Harry continued. "This – this would've been the only WAY, lad, don't you see? Don't you see that –"

"**Shut up! It's not the only way! You're just too stupid to think of a better one!**"

Kleitsmann thickly swallowed. "Then … I guess this burden is all on you, Mr. Potter. I have done all that I could. Now … now you truly realize how dangerous Loxvi will become. I wish you the very best."

"You disgust me." Harry muttered bitterly as Kleitsmann stalked towards the door. "I hope I never see you again." But by this time, Kleitsmann had already closed the door.

* * *

Harry lay in bed that night feeling strange and torn. '_I know they're my enemies. I know I should wish for their deaths, just like Kleitsmann expected of me … I almost expect that of myself. But it's so wrong, it's all just so wrong. To think that there might be a possibility of people in her ranks – unwilling people – is so highly disturbing. And even the ones that _are_ willing … I can't just go and kill them, hundreds of people, by my own hand. I should, but I refuse to! To think that the potions are worse than the Dark mark is disturbing. At least the dark mark didn't kill its' hosts if they decided to turn away from Voldemort._

_I just know there's another way. During the war … the Order had Snape. Hermione was absolutely right in that we need someone from the inner circle; someone who holds a position of power under Loxvi. And the only person that I personally know of who has that kind of power is Draco Malfoy. I can't believe I'm considering him. This plan better not fail.'_

_

* * *

_

(AN: I'm sorry for the short chapter, but I really felt that I needed to end it here so I can introduce the next chapter properly, which will (FINALLY) start the actual development between Harry and Draco. Also, I haven't really gotten much feedback on how good or bad this story is, or if I could improve it in some way, So I would loooooove if you could tell me what you think in a review!)


	5. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 5: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back**_

When Harry woke up that morning, he'd spent a few hours thinking of ways that he could approach Malfoy without causing suspicion. He thought of becoming a regular customer at The Bubbling Cauldron, but he knew that would only establish a tense owner-customer association, which would get him nowhere. He thought about going to the shop and just asking Malfoy to forget about the past and to become friends, but he foresaw a quick rejection. He thought about contacting Malfoy's friends and becoming friends with them, but that would be too risky, with too many variables.

He knew that he'd need to approach Malfoy away from that shop if he were to have any chance. The shop was Malfoy's property, and Harry stepping on that property would be viewed as an attack.

He thought back to his sixth year at Hogwarts. While he didn't want to go about stalking Malfoy like he had back then, it seemed like the only possible solution.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak from a chest in the study, and proceeded to go to Hogsmeade.

* * *

With the invisibility cloak covering him, he walked down Knockturn alley without apprehension. No one gave him dirty looks, and he heard conversation between people he normally didn't overhear. Like a tiny neighborhood, the people that walked the streets of Knockturn alley seemed to know everything about everyone else: what they looked like, how they walked, and possibly their usual attire. Perhaps, he thought, these people _knew_ he was an outsider on usual occasions when he visibly walked the streets.

Harry made it to The Bubbling Cauldron and looked through the black slats of the shop. Malfoy could be seen at the store counter, idly leaning on the table looking bored. Harry knew he had to wait; walking in without seeing anyone would probably startle him, so he waited.

Finally, a large, tall man with tied-back black hair walked through the shop door. Harry slipped in behind him and went to sit in a corner of the shop, unnoticed.

"Hello! Welcome to The Bubbling Cauldron, Mr. Smith." Draco said smiling.

"Thank you, thank you," the man said as he approached the counter, "I was wondering if I could get a supply."

Draco nodded, and with a paranoid gaze, looked around the shop. He disappeared into the back of the shop and came out with a small cardboard box. "Now, remember Mr. Smith, no more than one potion every day." He said quietly.

The man nodded, and walked out of the shop.

After about an hour of Malfoy looking bored and no more customers, Harry's legs were starting to fall asleep. He stood up and started walking around as quietly as he could so his legs would stop tingling. After a few minutes of walking around, Harry accidentally scuffed one of his feet.

Malfoy looked up and stared directly at him for a few moments before biting his lip, and looking up to glance every few seconds in the spot Harry was standing. Harry berated himself and tiptoed his way to the closest corner of the shop, where he crouched down.

And it was a good thing that he moved, because Malfoy finally walked over to the spot, and walked all around it, moving his hands through the air wildly. Harry wanted to giggle, because he looked silly doing what he was doing.

After a few moments, Malfoy put his hands on his hips. "Weird…" He muttered, shaking his head.

Malfoy sighed and walked back to the counter. After a few moments of rustling around, Malfoy came back with a sign saying 'Closed for Lunch – Open at 2:00', and hooked it on the window.

Harry quietly followed him out of the shop. After Malfoy locked the door, Harry followed him down into the main streets of Hogsmeade, where Malfoy walked into the bookshop Tomes and Scrolls.

Harry had never been in this shop, so it was a shock when he walked in and saw the multitudes of books lining the shelves. There were also stairs leading up to what he assumed was another floor. A counter was stationed in the corner, where a few people were lined up to buy books.

He quietly followed Malfoy as he walked up the stairs to the next floor. At the top, Harry realized that the steps led up to a third floor, but Malfoy stopped at the second floor and walked out, stopping to look through the shelves. Chairs and tables littered the middle of the floor, making it seem more like a library than a book shop.

He looked closer at the shelves that Malfoy was looking through; it seemed that many of the books covered Potions. '_So, this must be where he goes on his lunch break._' Harry thought. It made sense; Malfoy brewed potions and would need to be constantly researching to improve on his trade.

After Malfoy chose a book and went to sit at a table, Harry quietly walked back down the steps. After finding a bookshelf to hide behind, Harry took off the invisibility cloak and stuffed it into a big inner coat pocket, and walked up the steps, trying to avoid the attention of the people at the counter.

When he made it to the second floor, Malfoy was sitting with his back turned to the stairs. Harry walked over to a random bookshelf and started to look through the books; he'd need to find something that he could talk about without sounding dull.

Finally, he found a bookshelf that covered wizarding board games. He pulled off the book 'Card Game History', and carefully made his way over to the table where Malfoy sat.

The closer he got to the table, the more nervous he became. Malfoy sat, hunched over the table scribbling notes down. Harry took a deep breath and walked around to the seat opposite of him.

After he sat down, Malfoy didn't look up. He seemed so entranced in the material. Harry opened up his book and quietly laid it down on the table. Harry pretended to read for a few moments before clearing his throat. The noise caused Malfoy to finally look up.

Harry met Malfoy's widening eyes, and stared.

"Potter!" He yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. "What are you doing here?" He said, considerably quieter but with just as much anger.

"I'm just reading. What are _you_ doing here?" Harry asked, smiling.

Malfoy scowled and narrowed his eyes. "I've never seen you here before."

"I come here all the time. I'm surprised we've never seen each other." He smirked.

"Don't play games with me, Potter! Now, tell me, what are you doing here?" He spat and narrowed his eyes. "You're stalking me, aren't you." He said quietly.

Harry balked. "Don't think so highly of yourself, Malfoy. You're not interesting enough to stalk."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just keep your bloody mouth shut, Potter."

As both Draco and Harry pretended to read, Draco couldn't help but glance up at him every few moments. It was strange that Potter was suddenly showing up out of nowhere. Aside from the shop visit, he hadn't seen him in around three years since they left school. Draco resolved that he wouldn't talk to him; nothing good could come out of talking with Potter.

"So … what are you reading?" Harry asked.

"None of your business." Draco spat, still staring down at his book.

"I'm just curious."

"Keep your bloody curiosity out of my business, Potter." He growled.

"Why?" Harry said, smirking.

"Because it's annoying."

"But why is it annoying?"

"Because _you're_ annoying!"

"Why do you find me so annoying?"

"Damnit, Potter, you just are!" Draco slammed his book shut and moved over to another table on the other side of the floor.

After a minute of staring down at his book fuming, he heard someone sit down in the seat across from him.

"Why are you doing this, Potter?" He growled.

"Doing what?" Harry asked innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about. Why?"

"Because I know you … and you were sitting in here by yourself."

"Don't act so concerned, Potter."

Draco glared at Harry from across the table, and they held gazes for a few moments.

"I just wanted to know what you were reading. Why is that so hard to answer?" Harry said, softening his glare.

"Because … Ugh, I don't want to get into this again," Draco rubbed his eyes, and mumbled, "It's 'The Adepts Guide to Advanced Brewing' by Farlong Greits. Now please, just shut up so I can read."

Harry nodded and pretended to go back to reading.

"So," Harry started, "you're still interested in Potions?"

"I thought I told you to shut the hell up, Potter." Draco spat.

"Yeah, you did. But that doesn't mean I'm going to," Harry said, smirking. "All you have to do is answer the question."

"Technically, Potter, I don't _have_ to answer your bloody questions." Draco snapped, glaring across the table.

Harry knew that he wasn't getting anywhere by acting the way he was. He'd need to try a different tactic.

"… No. You don't. But … I'd like you to."

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He shifted his gaze to the table, then the floor, then the book, and back to Harry's face. "I – yes. I'm still interested in Potions." Draco said.

Harry nodded and looked back at his book. He bit his lip and glanced up at Malfoy, who seemed like he was intently trying to read. He knew he'd need to take a risk eventually; now seemed like a good time.

"Malfoy …" He started. "I'm sorry that I acted like such a prat at your shop. It was kind of immature on my part." He held his breath, waiting for him to react.

"You're telling me …" Draco said, glaring at him, and going back to reading his book.

Harry bit his lip and went back to pretending to read. '_Well … so much for that.' _Harry sighed, and flipped a page. This was getting nowhere. He might as well just call it a day. Memories of them fighting and calling each other names kept popping up in his head. Half of him wanted to wring Malfoy's neck for being so difficult; he kept being pulled to blame Malfoy, call him names, or punch him in the face. He knew he'd eventually have to tame his own thoughts before really getting anywhere. '_It's so hard trying to be civil with him – old habits die hard, I guess._'

With all of this in mind, Harry sighed, stood up, and went to walk back toward the bookshelf. A few feet behind Malfoy, he thought he heard something and stopped in his tracks.

"Apology accepted." Draco muttered, still staring down at his book.

'_Okay … so maybe I'm getting somewhere._' He thought, smiling to himself.

* * *

(AN: So … first contact has been made! What do you think Draco's position is in all of this? I will just add that not everything is as it seems…)


	6. A Good Distraction

**(AN: Thanks to blackiee for the review, and those who added the story to update or favorites! I really do appreciate it. I apologize for drawing the story out so much, but I have to. You must understand, the plot calls meeee! Okay, enough with my silliness. Now, onto the next chapter ^_^)**

* * *

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 6: A Good Distraction**_

He'd been trying to sleep when he heard her.

"_Draco…_"

He twitched in bed and pulled the covers further over himself.

"_Draco … Come to the Riddle House …"_

"No!" He groaned. "I don't want to…"

"_But you must, Draco."_

He slowly sat up and peered at the clock on his bedside table. _12:43. _Draco groaned and rubbed his forehead. '_Damnit … Why now?'_

After getting dressed, Draco made his way to the entrance of the manor. He pulled his coat around him tighter as he met the chilly air. He closed his eyes, and thought, '_I really hope this is important. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.'_

And with that, he apparated to the Riddle House.

The moon hovered high over the dilapidated building, and Draco's teeth chattered as a chilling breeze passed. The door creaked as he made his way inside. "Mr. Malfoy. Pleasure seeing you tonight." Antonin said.

Draco gave a terse nod. "As you, Mr. Dolohov. I hope I'm not mistaken if I say that Lady Loxvi is requesting my presence."

"Yes. She is. You will find her in the lower floor." Antonin said slowly, motioning to the basement.

Draco gave his thanks and proceeded to the steps, and to the floor below.

As he walked down the steps, he saw Lady Loxvi lying in her bed combing her long, dark hair. "Ah –" She gasped. "You've arrived. How pleasant." She said, her chuckle reverberating through the air.

"Yes. May I ask why I've been summoned so late in the night?" He asked, not allowing how disgruntled he was to be given away by his voice.

Lady Loxvi smiled, slithered over to a corner where a small table was, and lit a cone of Lavender incense. "You know, Draco … The smell of Lavender helps people sleep." She smiled seductively at him and motioned him over with a curling motion of her finger.

Draco narrowed his eyes, but nevertheless went over to her. She stroked his cheek and slowly brought his head to hover above the incense. "Doesn't it smell … wonderful?" She said seductively.

To Draco, it simply smelled like Lavender incense. "I – I must apologize, My Lady, but I'm … not seeing the point of this visit." He hoped to whatever gods were out there that she wouldn't take offense to his statement. He didn't feel like being tortured tonight.

She sighed sadly. "I see … well, no matter," she paused and closed her eyes. "A prisoner has requested your presence." She whispered.

"And why, may I ask, are you fulfilling the requests of prisoners, My Lady?" He asked.

She opened her eyes and stared directly at him. "Do prisoners not have a soul, dear Draco? They must have their requests met … especially if they are to pass away."

Suddenly, Draco got a weird feeling. He couldn't explain it, but something about Loxvi was suspicious. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Well … where am I to find this prisoner?" Draco asked quietly.

Loxvi bit her lip and turned away. "Antonin will lead you there. Please, see him." She said curtly, and slithered her way back over to her bed.

Draco lowered his eyes and nodded, making his way back up to the top floor.

"So … she finally told you why you were summoned." Antonin said.

"Yes. Where is this prisoner? I want to get this over with. I'm tired."

Antonin chuckled. "I can see why. You must be kept busy with your shop these days."

Draco nodded. "Yes. It can be quite a hassle. Now please, where is he?"

"This way." Antonin said, before leading him down a long corridor, through a door at the end of the hall, and down the steps from that room.

Draco swallowed heavily as he was met with overwhelming darkness, and a putrid scent, much like sweaty bodies and decaying rot. "There's a torch down this hall. See there?" Draco squinted in the darkness and made it out on a far wall. "When you touch it, it will light on its' own. The prisoner is in cell block 5."

Draco nodded, gasped nervously, and lifted his shirt to mask the odor of the prison. _'I can't believe they _keep_ people down here … oh, these conditions are horrible.'_ Draco thought, feeling pity for the prisoners he was passing, who he assumed by the smell were probably curled up next to their own feces.

He made it to the torch, and as he touched it, it burst into flame. He haphazardly tried to fill his lungs with the sooty smell of the burning wood to rid the smell of decay. A couple of cells down, he found cell block five and placed the torch outside of the cell.

Inside was a man who, much like the others, was lying partially naked on the ground. "Oy! You there! Prisoner!" He called out.

The man lifted his balding head and squinted in Draco's direction. He could see the soot and grime covering his face and body as the man tried to make out who was calling him. "Who – who's there?" The man called out in a frightened voice.

"Am I not the one you requested?" Draco asked.

"Oh …" The man immediately narrowed his eyes. "It's you." He said bitterly.

Draco's eyes widened. Shocked by the man's response, he held his tongue.

"You who … stole the light from my life. Who … led an old man to die in his own bile!"

Draco started to shake his head slowly, but then more violently. "What – what are you talking about, old man?" He screamed.

"You who … allowed this poison to contaminate my family!"

"Stop it! I don't know what you're talking about!" Draco screamed, running towards the bars.

"You who … continues to poison countless others! Men … "

"Please …" Draco said, screwing his eyes shut.

"Women,"

"Stop…" He pleaded, tearing up.

"Children."

"No…" Draco slid down.

"You who … murdered my son." The man said, staring directly into Draco's eyes. Draco covered his face, trying to hide the tears that were falling.

"I … I don't know what you're talking about …" He sobbed.

The man held an eerie glow as the torch light cast shadows across his face. "It's simple. You're a murderer." The man whispered.

"I'm not a murderer! **I'm not a murderer!**" He screamed, crawling away from the cell. Draco sobbed, and ran. He kept running – running past the decrepit bodies and fully inhaling the putrid rot of the prisoners. He didn't even know where he was going, until he ran into someone full force.

"Draco! My dear one, what is wrong?" Loxvi cooed, and gasped. "Why are you crying?" She asked quietly.

"I'm not a murderer! I'm not a murderer!" He kept muttering as she held him.

"No … no, you are _not_ a murderer! My dear boy, who told you that?"

Draco continued crying, holding onto Loxvi for dear life.

Loxvi smiled wickedly, and stroked Draco's hair."You are most _certainly_ not the murderer." She whispered.

* * *

Harry woke up that morning with a splitting headache, which followed him into the early morning hours. He tried to keep himself busy until he could meet Malfoy in the bookshop, but at this point, the headache had become so terrible that it felt like a migraine. Harry sighed. '_Well … I might as well go to his shop. It's not like he doesn't have headache potions …_' Harry chuckled, as he remembered his last visit to the shop. '_And … it wouldn't look _too_ suspicious if I went to the bookshop after that, would it?_' Somehow, he doubted it, but this headache was so bad he was willing to throw his common sense out of the window.

Harry sighed and gathered his things for the outing to Hogsmeade.

This time, Harry didn't feel the need to wear his invisibility cloak. Disregarding the rude glares he received from the Knockturn Alley residents, he made it to The Bubbling Cauldron and stood outside for a moment, gathering his wits.

'_Okay, Harry. Don't be rude. Don't cause a scene. Be as polite to Malfoy as you can. Okay. You can do this._'

The door jingled as Harry walked into The Bubbling Cauldron. Malfoy, who was standing at the counter, didn't even look up to greet him, but stared off into the shelves of the shop with his chin in his hands.

'_Children? But I wouldn't ever hurt a child! That man must've been mad. But he didn't seem like it ... it seemed like he genuinely wanted me to know that I murdered his son. But I didn't! I know I didn't! Unless … unless maybe he _gave_ the potion to his child, in which case … that isn't my fault! That's his fault! He's just a bad parent. But still … they _were_ my potions … I _did_ make them. Ugh … why do I feel so _guilty_ over this? I shouldn't. But I do …"_

Harry walked up to the counter, and as he did, got a closer look at his face, which looked paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked carefully.

Draco's eyes shot toward him. "Oh … Potter." He said, and returned to gazing back at the shelves. "What do_ you_ want?" He asked, holding less malice than usual.

'_Why was that man even in there to begin with? Oh, I wish I wasn't so quick to assume! Then maybe I would've asked. Ugh, I didn't murder anyone, Damnit! And Loxvi said he was going to pass away … but why? Surely he didn't stop taking the potions … did he? Was he in withdrawal? Why would he choose to do that? _Damnit!_ I wish I would've asked more questions …'_

Harry swallowed heavily. '_What … what's wrong with him? This isn't like him…_' Harry cleared his throat. "Um … I was just wondering if I could buy a headache potion. I have one … for real this time." Harry smiled genuinely.

"Alright." Draco said in a depressed tone, and walked over to the shelf to retrieve the potion.

As Draco was ringing it up, Harry asked, "Are – are you okay? I – I mean, I'm not trying to pry or anything, but … you look …"

"Save it, Potter. I'm fine." Malfoy deadpanned with a frown, looking at Harry.

Harry stared into Draco's eyes and could see the obvious lie hiding in them. "Well … okay. But … I was just wondering if maybe, if you would, you know, maybe like to –"

"Potter. Please. Spare me the stuttering and spit it out." Draco drawled.

"Would you like to come to my house," Harry paused and held his breath. "For coffee?" He held his breath even more, and said, "Imean, youdon'thaveto,butyoulooksotired andIjustthoughtitwouldbenice ifyouhadanupliftingcoffee onyourlunchbreak,youknow? Becauseyoulooksotired,and –"

"Potter!" Draco snapped. "Please. Just shut up. If you shut up, I'll go with you," He awkwardly glanced away from Harry, "for coffee."

Harry let out a relieved chuckle. "Okay. Alright. Well, I'll be back, you know … in a couple of hours." Harry said smiling, as he lifted up the potion he just bought. "Thanks … you know, for the potion, Malfoy. Um – Bye."

'_Well … at least Potter's good at something: Being a distraction.' _Draco rolled his eyes, and with a small smile, watched Harry walk out of the shop.

* * *

**AN: I'm sooo sorry for drawing the Drarry relationship out so much, but it has to be this way for the plot – but it'll get there! I promise! *gives readers some Drarry cookies* Hopefully those will tide you over for a bit ;) . Geez, am I updating too fast? =S I just realized I wrote the last chapter like, yesterday. o_o**


	7. No One Else

**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 7: No One Else**_

Harry sighed as he sat on his couch thinking. _'Why did I do that? Why did I invite him? I mean, I _could_ say that it was a random idea that subconsciously popped up in my head to avoid having to explain my presence at the bookshop … but that isn't it. I asked him without even thinking. Damn, this could turn out really bad … we still don't get along. We probably won't for a long time.'_ No matter what he thought of, though, he couldn't deny the pity he felt when he walked into the shop and saw how exhausted Malfoy looked. And this was bugging him. After all the things that Malfoy had done to him through the years … the last thing Harry wanted to feel for him was pity. But there was something in his eyes … some kind of pain that he was hiding. And even with how much he was fighting against it, there was something inside of Harry that was yearning to reach out.

He shook his head in confusion. His thoughts and feelings were starting to oppose each other, causing a conflict within him that he wouldn't be able to identify properly without seeing him again. _'I know I'm supposed to get close to him … get him on our side. But why did I act so nervous at the shop? Why am I so nervous around him?' _He thought about it for a few more moments. _'Maybe … maybe it's because I don't know how to act around him without us fighting. We've _never_ gotten along well, so maybe it's okay that I'm nervous … Damn, this is so frustrating.'_ Harry groaned and laid his head back on the couch. "Why…?" He asked the ceiling. "Why me…?"

* * *

After Harry had arrived in Hogsmeade and made his way through the streets of Knockturn Alley, he stood in front of Malfoy's shop, taking a few nervous breaths before opening the shop door with clammy hands.

Draco looked up from the counter, surprised. "Potter … I didn't think you'd come back." He said skeptically.

"Of course I'd come back. When I say I'm going to do something, I do it." Harry said, looking at him with a stern gaze.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you would … Perfect Saint Potter." He muttered, frowning. His nerves were on edge, though; never did he think Potter would actually do this. _'Why is he doing this? Having coffee with the enemy … What kind of world _is_ this?'_

Harry looked at him distastefully. "Really? After all this time, you're still …?" Harry sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "You know what? Whatever. Are you coming, or not?"

Draco glanced away, swallowed nervously, and looked back at Harry. "Um … Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." He said, nodding. Harry gingerly smiled, and offered him his hand.

Draco scoffed. "Are you joking? No _thanks_." He said, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder instead. Harry shrugged, and apparated with Draco to his house.

As they landed in front of the house, Draco immediately withdrew his hand from his shoulder. Harry looked over at Draco to make sure he'd landed okay, and went to unlock the front door. Draco stepped in after him, and looked around with parted lips.

"Hm … interesting little place you got here, Potter. It doesn't fit you."

"What'd you mean?" He asked indignantly, as they both walked into the kitchen.

As Harry poured water from the tap into a kettle, Draco said, "Well … I imagined a grand castle, with a moat around it – maybe some guards, you know? Like in those medieval fairy tales."

Harry chuckled cynically. "Wow, Malfoy. An imagination, much?"

Draco bit the edge of his lip as he looked sideways at Harry, who was placing the kettle on the stove. _'He's changed._' Draco thought, as he observed Harry tying back his hair, which had grown considerably since his years at Hogwarts. He still had those damn glasses, but it seemed to make his face look more mature – more intellectual than it had in the past. He observed the way his jaw set in place as he set aside a couple of coffee bags onto the counter; how his breathing was so even, and his shirt hugged the outline of his agile shoulders as he bent down to adjust the temperature on the stove.

Harry glanced over. "What?" Draco looked away, and opened his mouth to say something, but for a moment, nothing came out. He could practically feel the blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Um … nothing." He muttered.

'_He's acting so strange …'_ Harry thought, as he stood back up.

"You _can_ sit down, you know. I'll make the coffee." Harry said, looking at him.

Draco felt kind of stupid, standing there with his lips parted. He shut them, and swallowed. "Oh … Okay." He said, turning on his heel to go sit down.

Draco stared at Harry from the table. He looked awkward, standing hunched with both hands placed far apart on the edge of the stove. From this distance, Draco felt safe … safe in being able to observe the way Harry tapped the toe of his shoe behind him impatiently; the way his shirt hugged his back, and his tied hair came to a point in between his shoulder blades.

Harry stood at the stove, waiting for the water to boil. _'What am I going to say to him? This is bloody awful. This was such a terrible idea._' Harry thought nervously. Possible conversation topics made him gag; they could talk about the weather … or talk about his shop … or what Harry had been doing with his life. The latter would be a funny topic. 'So, Potter, what've you been up to?' , 'Oh, you know … nothing, Malfoy. I've been doing absolutely nothing with my life.' He could imagine the look he'd get from him: one that would communicate that the savior of the wizarding world had turned out to be a complete loser. Oh, yeah. That would go over well.

After what felt like forever, the kettle started whistling, and Harry took out two coffee cups and placed the bags in them.

"Do you want cream? Sugar?" Harry asked as he poured the water.

"I can do it." Draco said, as he jumped up from the table.

"No," Harry said vehemently, turning around. "No, Sit." He watched as Draco carefully sat down again, and said, "Really, Malfoy. I'll do it." He said with a tense smile, turning back to the counter.

"Um … black … four cubes of sugar." He said.

Harry looked at Malfoy over his shoulder, puzzled. "That's interesting …"

"…What's interesting?" Draco asked.

All of this was making him feel strange. Harry turned back to the counter and said, "We like our coffee the same way. Never would've thought." He said.

Harry walked over to the table with two cups in hand, and placed one down for each of them. "Thanks…" Draco said awkwardly, as he picked up the cup and cradled it in his hands, blowing on it to cool it down.

Other than the sound of sipping, there were several minutes of tense silence as they tried to avoid each others' gaze.

"So … it's strange, isn't it," Harry stated. Draco looked up at Harry questioningly. "You know … us … doing this."

Draco sighed. Finally breaking under the tension, he said, "I'm going to be really honest with you, Potter. I don't know why you invited me here. It's odd … that you would invite _me_, of all people. Someone that you're probably going to hate 'til the grave."

Harry watched as Draco placed down his cup. After many moments passed, his expression went from confused to troubled. "But … but _you_ ... aside from all that, you always come back into my life when …" He looked away, choking up, as he strangely could think of nothing else but the memory of Harry saving him from the fiendfyre … or when he'd seen him, vulnerable, in the bathroom crying during sixth year. That, even though he seemed to have friends when he was growing up, he never really had any at all. That he'd been alone … that Harry … _he_ had done something no one else would have. No one else would've given a damn about him if he were in trouble. _'No one else would've saved my life …' _He could feel himself tearing up. And here he was, feet away from the only person who seemed to give a damn about him, and yet he felt like he was miles away.

Harry was shocked. Sitting here, having a cup of coffee with his childhood rival, he never would've expected Draco to get emotional. "Malfoy … I … I don't hate you."

Draco closed his eyes, and said bitterly, "Stop it. Just … please stop. Stop lying. Stop playing games with me. I know … I _know_ you hate me."

After a couple moments of silence, Draco opened his stormy eyes, and looked directly at him. Harry didn't know what else to say; all he could do was try as hard as he could to feel what was fueling the fire in those steel-gray eyes.

All of a sudden, Draco pushed back his seat, stood up, and grabbed his coat angrily. In an instant, Draco's eyes flashed in Harry's mind – '_He … feels rejected. I remember that look … vaguely, but I remember it - It was the same look he gave me when I didn't take his hand in first year.'_

Harry turned in his seat and grabbed Draco's wrist violently, twisting him around. Harry quickly stood up and grabbed his upper arms. "Listen to me!" Harry demanded. After registering fear and shock in Draco's eyes, he said, "I do _not hate you._"

All of a sudden, Draco felt everything in his mind crash. Why should Harry _not_ hate him? The stress, the lack of sleep, the guilt that he had about the prisoner's family … the guilt about what he'd done to Potter … to his friends … about his involvement with Voldemort, and now Loxvi … it was all too much. _'It's simple. You're a murderer.'_ The echo of the prisoner's words rang in his mind, clear, like the moment it had been spoken.

He didn't deserve Harry's kindness … or his pity. He … didn't deserve Harry saving his life.

Harry watched as Draco's face crumpled, trying to hold back tears. "Get – get away from me!" He choked out as he started struggling against him. Harry, as gently as possible, tried to restrain his lashing out. He quickly guided him over to the couch through his struggling, where he gently pushed him down, still holding on to his upper arms. He quickly placed his knees on either side of his lap. "Malfoy –" He said in a clipped tone, "stop! St – STOP!" He struggled as Draco fought against him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He yelled.

"I don't need you, Potter! I – I don't need you! You wouldn't understand! **Let me up, you bastard! GET OFF OF ME!**" Draco screamed and spit in his face. Draco wrenched one of his arms free and punched Harry in the face. Taking the opportunity, Draco jumped off the couch.

Harry, suddenly angry about being spat at and punched, launched towards him. Draco let out a yelp and fell to the floor on his back, as Harry pinned his wrists above his head and straddled his waist. Draco felt like he was trapped – like he couldn't get out. Panic started to settle in his chest.

"Potter, get off of me! Please, let me go! I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" He screamed repeatedly, his breathing becoming rapid. Harry looked at Draco's eyes; at his face … he looked like a caged animal. Harry instantly felt the anger draining from him as he watched Draco work himself into a complete panic.

Shaking from the shock of seeing him like this, Harry loosened his grip on Draco's wrists and leaned down to look directly into his gray, panicked eyes. "Draco …" He said quietly. "Draco, listen to me. Draco … Calm down. Just calm down … Okay? Just calm down …" He said consolingly, his utterances becoming quieter as Draco closed his eyes and his breathing became more even. "Draco, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I pushed everything. I'm sorry. I didn't know." Harry waited, staring directly into his eyes, "I'm … sorry that I got angry. Draco, I _want_ to _help _you … please … please, let me help you! That's all I want …" Harry said gently, shaking his head, searching for a response in his eyes.

The last time he'd seen Draco in this much turmoil, regardless of the flickering of concern he had amid the accusations and the guilt he still harbored about cursing him, he'd had hexes shot at him first – and just like last time, Draco was lashing out. But _this_ time, Harry was determined to make it different. To make him see that people were allowed to be concerned about him; that he didn't have to feel embarrassed about reaching out if he needed help.

Draco turned his face to the side, trying to hide his tear-stricken face, but soon, sobs started wracking his body. With a pained expression, Harry got off of him, and went to help him sit up. As he did so, Draco leaned into him and twined his hands into the fabric of his shirt. Harry gently pulled him into an embrace, and held him as he wept on his shoulder.

"I – I'm so confused …" He whimpered. "I d-didn't mean to hurt anyone!" Draco cried, as Harry started caressing his back. "I'm so stupid … Potter, I'm so stupid, I thought … I thought, maybe if … maybe if I could prevent something like this from happening, that … that no one would get hurt." Draco started sobbing "But I couldn't stop it, and it's happening! It's already happening, and it's all my fault … I wish I just had the time … the time to find ..." Draco continued sobbing. He was too close … dangerously close to giving out the wrong information. He knew that if he were to stay there, in his arms, that he'd spill everything; all of his secrets, and then Harry would _definitely_ hate him.

His breath coming in short pants, Draco struggled out of his hold and with wide, panicked eyes and parted lips, grabbed his coat and ran out of the house.

Harry sat on the floor, shocked by the surreality of everything that had just happened, and watched as Draco rushed out. He knew why he'd been in such a panic; he himself was withholding just as much information as he probably was.

He also knew that he could no longer go on pretending to care about Draco.

… and that scared him.

* * *

**(A/N: Oh geez … this was heavy. Way heavier than I intended it to be. Is this out of place? I felt like I poured everything into this chapter o_O. If this chapter is silly or too dramatic, PLEASE let me know. [as I'm asking myself, 'self-conscious much, Panatis?'] On the story's note, there's much more to come! Not everything is settled, not by a long shot – have you figured out what's really going on yet? ;) )**


	8. Moving

**AN: Thank you, Galadriell, for all of the wonderful reviews! And thanks to anyone who's been keeping up with the story. On to the next chapter!**

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* * *

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**Legacy of the Serpents**

_**Ch. 8: Moving**_

The morning sun was gracing the horizon as Draco unlocked the door to his shop. He looked up into the glass window of the door and glanced at his reflection; he looked so tired, but there was nothing he could do about that now. The night had already passed, like the night before it had. All he could do now was go on with the day.

After setting his coat down on the counter, he walked into the back brewery room and went to work. He had about 12 batches of different kinds of potions he needed to brew before his work day was over, so he knew that if he dawdled, he'd be behind – again. The last couple of days, he hadn't felt like doing much of anything, except dwell on his thoughts. He'd been up last night, repeating over and over in his head how stupid he was to have broken down in front of Potter like that; nursing the embarrassment he had over the entire situation. Then the memory of the old prisoner would plague his mind. His emotions had been in such a mess; embarrassment, shame, guilt, hopelessness, confusion, back to embarrassment, and all over again.

About a half hour passed before he heard a customer walk in. He stopped stirring the batch he was working on, and went into the lobby of the shop – but as he looked around, he saw that no one was there. _'Damnit, Potter, this better not be you again …'_ he thought. Harry was the last person he wanted to see. He didn't want his pity, and he didn't want to risk doing something embarrassing again.

But as he walked into the center of the lobby, he saw a slip of paper in front of the door. He went to pick it up and leaned his back against the door as he read.

"Mr. Malfoy: A 'Smith' has been giving specific potions to Loxvi. You know which 'potion' I'm talking about. I just thought you should know.

T.K."

Draco's wide eyes lifted from the note. "What in bloody hell …?" He muttered, as he read it again to make sure that what was written in the note was really there.

Draco's mind was racing. Why would she need those? What business did she have with those potions? She didn't need them! _'Maybe … maybe she's hoarding them … maybe she thinks I'll turn against her, so she's stocking up just in case I decide to quit on her … which would give her enough time to find someone else to make the potions. That has to be it. She'd do something like that, too.'_

Draco slipped the note into his pocket. He wasn't planning to turn against her. Even though he felt really guilty that certain parents might be stupid enough to administer the potion to their children, and then stop administering them, it wasn't really _his_ fault; and it wasn't Lady Loxvi's fault, either. _'But it _is_ your fault … and you know it.'_

He thought back to the memory of himself and Lady Loxvi talking about the potions.

"_Have you been successful at concocting the potion yet, Draco?"_

"_Yes … but … there's one draw-back. And I'm really nervous about the idea of people using it …"_

"_Why? What's wrong with it?"_

"_If … for whatever reason, and I'm not saying that they will, but if any of your followers stop taking it … if _I_ stopped taking it … the withdrawal is next to impossible to treat. It would likely kill the recipient."_

"_Is that all?"_

"_Are … are you saying that's what you want?"_

"_Are you suggesting that they would turn against me?"_

"_Well … no, Lady Loxvi, but-"_

"_Than what is the problem?"_

"_Well … as long as I tell them about the withdrawal, there will _be _no problem."_

"_No. Simply don't tell them. As long as they don't plan to turn against me, they won't have to fear the withdrawal … will they."_

If only he'd stood up to her … if only he hadn't been rushed to create this damn potion. He was such a fool … now parents were stupidly giving this potion to their children, and not continuing its' administration. _'Probably wanting to give their children an extra boost of power … it _does_ have that effect. But that's _not _what they were intended for!'_ He would need to talk to Loxvi about this; he would need to convince her that he needed to be able to tell her followers about the effect of the withdrawal. He needed to make her see that, while neither of them thought that this was going to happen, that it needed to be stressed not to give their children this potion because the withdrawal could kill them.

He decided that he'd talk to her the next day. _'She needs to see the severity of the situation … surely she will. She's not as beastly as Voldemort was … she has a heart. I know she does. I've seen her show mercy to many of her followers. She'll agree with me.'_

After a long day at the shop, Draco apparated to the manor. He was so exhausted, but he felt so much better about everything now that he'd thought of a possible solution to prevent people from dying because of the potion. He could finally be honest … that is, if Loxvi agreed with him. Unfortunately, he'd been reassuring himself all day.

He walked inside the hall, and was startled to see Narcissa awake, lounging on a loveseat, reading a book.

"Mother?" He asked as he approached her, his black dress shoes clicking on the stone floor. "Why are you awake?"

She put down her book quickly and sat up. "Draco … I need to talk to you about something, darling. Would you meet me in my study?"

He knew he wasn't in trouble. Something was bothering her … he'd heard that tone many times before. She sounded upset. He followed her as she walked into the hallway. Yes, Draco mused, she was definitely upset. That was her 'I'm troubled and I'm going to let everyone know it' walk. Sometimes he thought he knew his mother all too well.

When they made it to her study, she went to scoot an oval chair to be in front of the chair beside it.

"Mother, stop," Draco said as he sidled over and went to scoot it over himself.

Narcissa smiled. "Thank you." He waited as Narcissa sat down, and went to sit himself.

With a serious expression, she said, "Draco … what I'm about to tell you is going to be hard for you to believe. I've told Lucius, but … he always thinks anything I tell him about my friends is women's gossip. I'm asking you to believe me. Can you do that?"

Her silver eyes shone with sincerity as she gazed at him. Draco nodded and said, "Mother … I've always believed you. You've always hated lying, even though you've been known to do it on occasion." He teased, smiling.

She gave him a small smile for a moment, but then looked down solemnly, retrieving a letter between the waist ribbon on her dress. "I received an owl from Nastasha Bennett this morning. You remember her, don't you, Draco?"

He looked down, confused for a moment. "Wait …" He looked up, "Was that the woman from our dinner party when I was twelve? Was she chubby, short black hair, horrendous giggle?"

Narcissa couldn't help herself and started laughing. "Yes, yes, that's her. But you shouldn't speak of her that way."

Draco nodded to the letter. "So, what did she say?"

Narcissa sighed, her giggles dying down quickly into a frown, and slowly said, "I'm going to go ahead and read the letter. I think it would be better for you to hear it this way."

She opened the letter, cleared her throat, and said,

"Dear Narcissa,

Please burn this letter after you've read it. I've been holding something within me, and I need to tell someone, even though I shouldn't. I know you'll keep my secret. You've always been the best at keeping secrets. I feel horrible about this … Please know that what I write in this letter is true.

My husband and I were invited to the Riddle House for dinner. Lady Loxvi told us to bring our son Alton, because she wanted to meet him. When we got there, everything was set up for a feast. However, Lady Loxvi told us that she needed to talk to us in private, and that what she needed to say might not be appropriate for Alton's ears.

She told us to send him into the other room … and we did. I never should've. We should have left … we never should have accepted her invitation. Regardless, we sent him away. After a moment, she told us, and I remember it so clearly because my stomach sank; She told us, "By this time, your son has consumed his first dose of the potion that will bind him to me," She told my husband, "the same one you happen to take."

At this point, both Herald and I were outraged. I told her that he was only nine years old, that he was just a baby … but she told us to keep quiet, and said, "If you stop administering this potion to your son, or if you tell anyone that he is under its' influence, you will both be marked as traitors. Is this understood?"

I wept. I never wanted my son to be involved in the politics of an inevitable war; that if he had been old enough, it would've been his own choice. But now, none of us have a choice.

Please, Narcissa, do not tell anyone about this. I want to keep my family safe … but I just needed someone to know.

Sincerely,

Nastasha.

P.S. Our friend Tabitha Crawford's son just passed away from a mystery illness, and shortly thereafter, her husband went missing. Please, give her your condolences. She really needs it right now."

Draco was pale and shaking by the time his mother's voice ended. He couldn't even look at her; everything he'd thought about Loxvi was a lie. He wanted to cry … _'This whole time … this whole time, _she's_ been the one doing this! It was never the parents … it was her. Oh gods, what have I done? How could I have allowed this to happen? She's … she's setting up another generation of servants, but also trying to weed out those who would betray her … it's her ultimate test. I can't believe this … I can't believe this, but I have to! Why would anyone claim that this happened unless it did? Oh my gods …'_

"Draco … is … is there _anything_ … _anything_ at all, that you can do about this? This is _wrong_, what she's doing. You know it. I know it. And …" She said, pointing to a random spot on the wall, "most of all, they know it." She said, her arm falling to her side.

Draco looked down. "There's … nothing I can do." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" She asked sharply.

"I mean … what I just said. There's absolutely _nothing_ I can do." Draco said, looking down in shame.

"Well … Draco, can't you just stop making the potions?"

"No … it isn't that simple."

"Why … why not?"

Draco noticed that she was starting to sound hysterical. "These potions … they were made specifically to bind followers to Loxvi. But I ran into a … a problem. I explained it to her, but she didn't seem to care … now I know why. She _knew_ she could use it to her advantage," he spat. At his mother's imploring expression, he said, "If … if anyone stops taking the potions, the withdrawal will kill them."

Draco glanced up at his mother's shocked face. "Mother … I've tried everything. I've tried talking to Loxvi about it, I've tried … researching, countless hours, for alternatives, or solutions to counter the withdrawals, but … they've never worked. I even tried them on myself, forcing myself into withdrawal to test them … Not one damn thing worked … not one damn thing!" He said, turning away as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Can you … at least tell people about this? About the withdrawal?"

"No! I can't … " he said, looking up at her. "She was adamant about me not telling anyone … if I do, she'll … she'll probably do something bad to me – probably mark me as a traitor … and I'd rather die by my own hands before letting her put me in those cellars!" He shouted.

Narcissa gasped. "Please don't say anything like that, Draco. Please don't say that." She said, tearing up.

At seeing his mother getting emotional, he stormed off. He cried himself to sleep that night.

Draco was late to open his shop the next morning. As he made his way in, he went immediately into the brewery. He picked up a bottle of the potion, the reflection of his gray eyes staring back at him as he gazed at it.

'_I don't want to do this anymore …'_ Draco thought, throwing the bottle at the wall, its' violet contents dribbling down the stone surface and onto the floor. _'There's nothing else I can do … I need to end this. I'm sorry Mother … Father …'_

_

* * *

_

After the outburst, Harry couldn't help but think often of Draco. _'I know that if I keep trying … if I keep reaching out to him, eventually he'll open up about everything – about the potions, about Loxvi. I hope … I hope I don't scare him away._' His biggest fear was that if he kept checking up on him, that Draco would get defensive and push him away completely. But … he wanted to see Draco again. He needed to make sure that he was okay, especially after the episode that had happened at his house. If he could just see that he was okay, if Draco didn't lash out at him, he'd know that he could continue meeting up with him. _'And I need to … because if this doesn't work, we're all screwed.'_

When Harry walked into the shop, he saw Draco rush out from another room. _'He … looks worse than the last time I saw him here … this can't be good. I should just walk out right now.'_ He turned around to walk out, when he heard Draco's voice.

"Potter!"

'_He … doesn't _sound_ angry …_' Harry mused, as he turned back around and slowly walked up to the counter.

"I just … thought you should know that … that I'm moving to Scotland in four days."

Harry was speechless. After all this time, after all this work … Malfoy was moving? _'I … can't believe this. I just can't believe this. How can he move? How can he just … move away? We _need _him, damnit! I can't believe this is happening!'_

" What do you mean, moving to Scotland?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes wide with shock.

"I'm moving to Scotland. I … don't get much business here, and there's a … a wider market there," He said with wandering eyes. "I'll be gone by Friday morning, Potter. So … there'll be no point in you stopping by anymore. I just thought you should know." He said with cold, hard eyes.

Harry swallowed heavily, his jaw tight with anger. He wanted to slam his hands on the table; he wanted to take the potions off the walls, slam them into the ground, screaming at Malfoy any expletive that came to his mind; he wanted to shake Malfoy, he wanted to punch him, he wanted to hold him, he wanted to cry, he wanted to whisper things in his ear to make him stay …

But there was nothing he could do. Breathing heavily, he walked out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

Draco watched him walk out, and as the door closed, his eyes finally betrayed how he felt.

"_I'm sorry, Harry …"_

_

* * *

_

**AN: *giggles evilly* Whatever you're thinking, it's probably right … that's all I'm going to say.**


End file.
